


Vehement

by Lotrin26



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Jedi against Sith, Potential Mention of Torture?, Slight Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:07:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22936072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotrin26/pseuds/Lotrin26
Summary: A Star Wars short story.Farah Vyrr. The Grey Jedi. The lone wolf. The Sith. Captured, molded into someone shaped only by the will of the force. Attachment is forbidden, so he let go. Pain is also forbidden, so he dismissed it and numbed it. Healing seems to only happen with the light.Inspired by this fan made trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=glhBCI0lnEc
Relationships: JEDI - Relationship, Old Republic - Relationship, Short Story - Relationship, Sith - Relationship, Star Wars - Relationship, Tython - Relationship





	1. Part 1: All Seeing Sith

He was withering in his chains. Alive. Only just alive, waiting almost for something to change or happen. They had not even used a lightsaber, only for light. The eerie red glow against the metal chains, ropes, was always a sign they were coming. They never used a vibro-blade, no. That was too easy. The wounds would be cauterised, healing. The room was laced with force-limiting substances. He couldn’t work out what it was.

It was like being cut off from most of his senses. For the first time in his life, he could only see just in front of him, could only feel the chains rubbing against his slowly bleeding wrists. It was isolating, a numbness. The familiar presence of all things, midichlorians, were gone. The usual connection to his Master, the waves of calm and comfort, were gone. Severed.

The door creaked open, sliding slowly, tauntingly, so that he could see the rust covered hallway and the menacing figure swathed in shadow. A single bladed lightsaber in hand. It illuminated the eerily pale skin, the worn black fabric, his black hair. Most importantly, the yellow eyes. He would always remember those eyes.

The man – no. The sith walked closer, the heat of the lightsaber almost burning as it got closer. Farah closed his eyes, only to have the bony hand of the Sith grasp under his chin.

‘Open your eyes  _ Jedi _ ,’ he spat, ‘so I can see the fear within them. So I can see that you’re less of a Jedi than you pretend to be.’ Farah took a silent breath as he tried not to tremble. Steeling himself, he opened his eyes, hoping that no fear could be seen. The sith only chuckled. It was haunting, echoing around the room.

Leaning closer, the sith stabbed a silver blade into Farah’s side, leaving it in. He should have pulled it out, to have the wound fill with blood, torture, Farah thought bitterly. Bitter. It was not something for a Jedi, even a padawan, to be. He gritted his teeth against the pain, wishing he could release his emotions into the force.

The sith placed something into his bound hands. Cold and smooth. Even with his limited abilities with the force, he could tell that this thing, was full of darkness. The shields around the room lifted.

For a moment it was a relief, he could feel the objects in the room, the channel connecting him and his master. It was weakened, but there. Then, like a wave on kamino, came the presence of the dark side. He tried to block it out, but to no avail. The thing in his hand, was too strong. It seemed to be a holocron, but unlike any he had ever seen or felt. Dark voices in the sith tongue of Korriban wove through the air, through the force. It was suffocating. The sith placed his own hands around the holocron, forcing Farah to hold on.

The words in the forbidden language, almost seemed to become clearer. More similar to galactic basic. He tried to shake his head, to rid himself of the dark side presence, but it was too close and too strong.

‘Yes. Listen. Listen as your brother did before you. As your brothers and sisters, the exiles, have done before you.’ The sith commanded, tone laced with anger. There was nothing else he could do.

He touched the glowing red of the holocron, so the skeletal fingers would stop crushing his bones. Rather than see the sith, the prison that he knew was around him, he saw the door open again. The sith seemed to step aside. Two figures appeared, one dragging another. He recognised one instantly. His master, bloodied and scarred. The other, swathed in black, the faint glint of yellow eyes, had one red saber ignited, the second was peeking out from his belt. He shoved Farah’s master to the ground in the dirty cell, before throwing off the hood of his cloak with a growl. Farah let out a choked gasp. Under the light of the red saber, he could see their facial features clearly.

It was, himself. Older, scarred, yellow-eyed, but himself.

In shock, he unleashed the force to destroy the holocron. It shattered in his hand, falling to the floor. The dark side presence dissipated. The door opened again, slowly, tauntingly once more. A cloaked figure, like the vision. His master, bleeding, like the vision. He couldn’t help but shake. His master’s expression was guarded, but Farah could see fear. 

‘Padawan!’ His master exclaimed in shock. ‘Release him!’ he commanded, his voice laced heavily with the force. ‘You must release him.’ He commanded again, to which the sith laughed dryly.

‘You think mind tricks work on me? I am strong minded. I left the Jedi due to this strength. I will not. I believe that we, will wait, until your young apprentice is turned. Then we will see true strength.’ The sith hissed.

His master steeled himself. ‘It will not happen.’ Farah wondered how he could have such faith, especially when his master proposed a haunting deal. ‘Take my life, but free my apprentice.’ He commanded.

Farah rattled his chains. As the sith nodded in agreeance, he plunged his lightsaber into the chest of Farah’s mentor. All he could do was watch and scream. The burn, the thud as his lifelong mentor collapsed to the ground.

‘Now young apprentice. Korriban awaits you.’ The Sith cackled as Farah let loose another scream.


	2. Part 2: Battle Jedi

He looked each padawan up and down. They were fresh out of the initiate trials, having just been claimed by different masters. Farah looked more like the horrid vision of himself, scarred, older and worn. He could hear the whispers among the Tython temple. The grey jedi, the roaming jedi, the one who never took a padawan.

_ Take my life, but free my apprentice. Brothers and sisters. Korriban awaits. _ He released the recollections back into the force. They were not needed here. These padawans didn’t need to know of Korriban and endless darkness. He rubbed the button on the saber clipped to the left side.

‘The battlefield is no place for children. They will test you. Whatever happens, whatever you see, there’s no coming back.’ He stated, drawing his purple saber. Some of the padawans gasped in wonder. Yes the purple was rare, for the reason behind it was equally rare, not that they understood that. Their wonder was simply at seeing something that they had never been exposed to before. The story behind his purple saber, was painful to tell.

He demonstrated the forms before patrolling among the initiates back and forth. Many of them shook as he walked past, many finding his force presence intimidating. Unlike other Jedi masters, who radiated pure serenity, he had been told that he radiated calm at such an intensity that he caused the force to ripple strongly. Though Farah acknowledged it, he refused to believe that he was intimidating or awe inspiring. He had been asked by some of the braver initiates to battle against other Jedi masters.

He had been walking along the training grounds, headed towards the healers. They were still working on removing traces of the dark side trauma. Sleepless nights and constant reminders made moving around the temple difficult, almost impossible. A braver initiate politely asked, ‘Master Vyrr, will you battle with Master K? We were hoping that you would honour us with a demonstration of the more advanced lightsaber forms?’ She had asked, head bowed.

Farah thought for a moment. No. Fighting against a green saber would bring back too many memories. Memories that he tried to release into the force.

‘No.’ He shook his head. The young ones looked disappointed for a moment, before looking serene once more. He sensed a faint vein of disappointment also coming from Master Klen. It was not something he would do. Not after being forced to fight against his fellow jedi. They had not recognised him, but the Farah Vyrr from his vision had almost come to pass. In some moments, he could still feel it, the tendrils of the dark side at the edge of his mind.

Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath out of his nose, like a horse, he patrolled around the sparring padawans. He only offered small criticisms, ‘move that leg. You’ll fall if you are balanced liked that… change the grip on saber, once you part with the practice one, that hold will be dangerous…’ He nudged hands and feet into the correct position before moving on.   
‘Again.’ He said after the first repetition, and the second. They needed to be fluid, at one with themselves and the force before launching into a real battle.

The senate was struggling to form, dark side forces pushed back against it. There were rumours among the jedi, whispers in the dark side tendrils, that forces on Korriban had expanded, that they formed alliances with exiles on Exegol to train captives and younglings for their cause. The Jedi, in order to protect the beginning of a unified system, were sworn to fight. Farah only hoped that they would be able to leave out the civilians in the middle of things. Leave them to their republic.

It was almost nightfall when he finally approved the sparring standards of the adolescents. As soon as he vocalised this, many of the padawans stumbled or fell into a heap, sabers extinguished. ‘At the end of a battle, you will not get the chance to rest immediately. You will die.’ He admonished, sending most of them back into ready forms. ‘Of course, this is not a real battle. Return to your quarters and prepare for late-meal. You are dismissed.’ He bowed, hands together. Those standing offered a bow in return, before helping the exhausted ones off the floor.

Unlike the others, he would not be returning to the temple for late-meal. Nights on Tython were not easily missed. He found the swaying canopy soothing, the soft ripples of leaves and water as they traveled through the force. There were even some flying creatures who's squawking and hunting carried the sounds of natural balance. Farrah walked the opposite way from the temple, instead walking down the hidden but worn path to the stream.

He trudged along, before coming to rest at a point where the rapids ran loudest. Removing his boots, he set them under a tree. Adjusting his cloak around his shoulders, Farah waded into the raging river. The water tried to tug him away from his target, to get him to follow, instead he pushed onwards. A single rock, often overtaken by small waves in the rapids, lay in the centre of the stream. Hauling himself up onto it, Farah wrung out his sodden cloak. Water lapped around his ankles. Spreading his cloak behind him, he sank down into a sitting position - sitting on the heel of his left foot, and right foot raised. He looked up into the gap in the tree leaves. There was a faint glimmer of stars amongst clouds.

_ The stars are the easiest way to feel the unifying force, Padawan _ . His master’s voice echoed. Looking next to him, he blinked for a moment. It was almost as if his master had been sitting there, but - it was impossible. Once a jedi was released into the force, he became a part of nature.

The voices spoke in harsh tounges, despite the peaceful river. He tried to will them away with the force, to banish them. Yet, they clung, like the darkside itself to the corners of his mind. They grew louder and louder, wanting him to betray his pledge and all that he had worked towards.

Taking a deep breath, he began to shake. He tried to close his eyes. It was as if the wind burst, a crack like thunder and then peace.  _ Peace, padawan. All will be righted through the balance of the force _ . 

Farah Vyrr finally felt peace. The dark side was gone, though temporarily. He opened his eyes. Branches had cracked, a storm had raged around him. He dismissed the shame. He felt at peace in an impending war.


	3. The Protector

He marched into battle, leading a squadron of Jedi, young and old into the oncoming fray of sith and civilians. Vaulting over some rocks, he drew both lightsabers mid air and shouted the command for the others to charge. There was no time to look, to think. He would not allow himself to do so. He needed to fight.

His only thoughts were, if the lightsaber blade is red, or they have a blaster, attack. He hated the strong presence of the dark side, how it pushed at the edges of his mind and demanded it be released. To undo all he had trained for. Farah lept into battle against the nearest sith, their lightsabers twirling in a deadly dance of red on purple and white. He used all the force he could muster, and pushed against the opposing red saber.

Underneath the hood of his opponent, the light shone upon the yellow eyes. Yellow eyes filled with anger and pain. He once had those eyes. Unbeknownst to most of the Jedi in the order, he had been tasked with attacking an outpost in the mid-rim. He had done it, complied with orders to try and ease the pain and suffering. Each cry into the force had eased his own, even as he shrank into himself. One saber purple, the other white had lit the way to victory for the sith. He snarled at each blue blade, each green blade that he encountered, cutting them down like trees. He had not seen trees in years, both Korriban and Exegol had none. He ignored the pleas for mercy and followed the example of those who were his brothers and sisters.

Farah pushed the thoughts of the darkside back, he closed his eyes as he raised his arms above his head. Killing was something he was not sure that he could do.  _ Bring peace to the force young one. _ He heard the echoes of his old Master’s advice. Reaching out into the force, he used its guidance to know what to do. He felt himself bring the saber down to their neck, holding it long enough to burn before cutting. It felt wrong, to end another life. Yet, Farah reasoned with himself, many of the older sith would not be turned back to the light. They found the dark a form of knowledge and freedom.

He had wished that he could let go of the time he was a Jedi, the knowledge that he had existed in peace and hope. It caused too much pain. With each life he released into the force, each thief and mercenary that they asked him to end, he felt himself becoming numb to it. Hope was futile and so was the idea of escape. The remains of the shackles around his wrists were a clear reminder of that. They served as a painful reminder, the constant rubbing of rusted metal on long scarred skin, it reminded him that he couldn’t have saved his master’s life and that he would never be free, which reignited some of the pain that he felt. Why would these Jedi not deserve to feel the same pain!? He thought as he cut down more of them, yellow eyes glowing with power.

Now he wished to banish those memories. He could reflect on them later, when he was alone and in quiet. Not now. Not as he clashed against red sabers, his white one brighter than the Tython moon. It was defence, he had to remind himself. Defense of the Temple, of his true home and of the light side. He shouted another command to his group, looking back as a padawan let out a high pitched scream of pain. She was injured, her master dead. It brought back too many memories. Using the force to leap over battling adversaries, he held the purple saber to the throat of the sith that tried to cut down the young girl. ‘The battlefield is no place for a child,’ he consoled the girl, ‘return to the temple. Protect the younglings. Go!’ Farrah commanded as he clashed sabers with another Sith.

‘I was once one of you!’ He screamed at a green bladed Jedi, who tried to talk him into reason, into letting go of the hate and anger. He held both lightsabers, one red, one purple at their throat. They kept trying to speak, to reason that his master wouldn’t have wanted this. He only growled, ‘You dare speak my old master’s name!? You never knew him!’ Farah screamed, cutting of their lightsaber arm. For a moment he felt guilt, remorse, as the Jedi calmly uttered his wishes into the force, cut short by Farah’s red blade.

Farah turned at another scream. An initiate, with a training saber, at the end of the Sith Master’s red saber. He let loose a battle cry, using the force to push away the dark side that tried to cloud his mind. ‘Look away!’ He commanded the child, before slicing the sith with the purple saber. The child uncovered their eyes with a pained whimper. ‘Go now. Run back to the temple.’ He had to be their protector, if no one else was. Using the force, he concentrated on the retreating form of the child, shielding them. The battle must end. Another sith dragged him across the forrest floor as he fought to get away. Their supreme leader stood at the back, waiting and watching. Farah was dragged to his knees in front of them. ‘I was once one of you!’ He screamed, igniting his white saber. Holding one in each hand, eyes closed, he blocked a bout of force lightning. He could feel the tug of the darkside, coming from this sith.

Crossing his blades in defense, with another grunt, he released his emotions into the force. The sith stumbled forward a single step. Then, he lay halved on the forest floor. Farah turned to the battling Jedi and Sith. ‘Your master is no longer! Leave Tython, return to Korriban.’ He cried out, drawing the attention of the sith. Many of them sheathed their sabers, but remained ready to kill each other with the promise of becoming the leader. All too soon, he watched them retreat. His work was done. The Jedi had emerged victorious. 

They trudged back to the temple, burnt, limbless, bloody. Farah pushed his own pain aside. There were others who needed healing, who were hurting. Padawans and healers greeted them at the temple entrance and the injured walked through. He noticed, partially hidden by a stone bench, sat a young padawan. He could feel her numbness and her grief in the Force. It was the same girl who had seen her master die. ‘Your master would not see you grieve.’ He consoled as she shook her head with tears threatening to spill.  
‘My master is dead. My home, my temple will not take me back. I have shown attachment and pain. Those lead to the dark side.’ She uttered, monotone.   
‘The temple accepted me, for redemption is the return of the light. I claim you,’ he took a moment to recall the girl’s name, ‘Tyv’en, as my Padawan Learner, in the way of the Force.’ He spoke solemnly, placing a hand upon her shoulder. In the moment of touch, as he pulled her from the ground, had the dark side tendrils receded.


End file.
